Submissions by Everavalon
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
The serpents tongue is liquid and claims to be wise
SELF POEM
Published
31st Dec 2024 10:48pm
31st Dec 2024 10:48pm
Without circumstance
To lionize the simple folk
Starting them off on a collar
Led astray by some sophisticated wit with money
and boat loads of free time
Reacting selfishly to the amble of souls
pining for status in this modern whirl
Romancing freedom like some vested chump
riding on the backs of the boughten
Mentally, they’ve caned the rose hips into cluster;
fortifying their abundance like a tilting axis
on a vintage skewer
holding up the earth in stained resonance
whispering nothings to the moon in hopes of a reply
I’ve had...
Starting them off on a collar
Led astray by some sophisticated wit with money
and boat loads of free time
Reacting selfishly to the amble of souls
pining for status in this modern whirl
Romancing freedom like some vested chump
riding on the backs of the boughten
Mentally, they’ve caned the rose hips into cluster;
fortifying their abundance like a tilting axis
on a vintage skewer
holding up the earth in stained resonance
whispering nothings to the moon in hopes of a reply
I’ve had...
#SelfReflection
130 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
31st Dec 2024 3:15pm
31st Dec 2024 3:15pm
Hereafter
Our fears burgeon when we bleed black, head tipped forward in the moment to feed the sorrow that has evolved into useless stature. A wilt of the eye that is too immersed in the fray to accommodate clear vision; a soiled iris moored at the pier that dredges the bottom each day.
The illume of my soul obscures like a resonant illness to form my unease. I am far from a source of vibrancy to kindle my stride. Oceans away from reprieve with no land between to lay my head. I face my eyes to the aft to acknowledge every lapse; every miscalculation. What I learned is disdainful: I’ve...
The illume of my soul obscures like a resonant illness to form my unease. I am far from a source of vibrancy to kindle my stride. Oceans away from reprieve with no land between to lay my head. I face my eyes to the aft to acknowledge every lapse; every miscalculation. What I learned is disdainful: I’ve...
#SelfReflection
91 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
28th Dec 2024 10:43pm
28th Dec 2024 10:43pm
Desert rose
Perchance, the moon grips the shadows of the crestfallen ‘neath the winds that feather these scars
Where the silhouette beneath me is tattered—
and shunned by the light that tethers its shroud to my stride
These morose souvenirs that disfigure my pace
These unorthodox philosophies that fuse my feet to the soil
In vivid youth, I was writ of the menacing swirl of rebellion that wicked fate to my heels
inflicting pain upon others to inhale their fear
Scribing stigma to my brow
O’ the guilt has befallen
These wounds that were...
Where the silhouette beneath me is tattered—
and shunned by the light that tethers its shroud to my stride
These morose souvenirs that disfigure my pace
These unorthodox philosophies that fuse my feet to the soil
In vivid youth, I was writ of the menacing swirl of rebellion that wicked fate to my heels
inflicting pain upon others to inhale their fear
Scribing stigma to my brow
O’ the guilt has befallen
These wounds that were...
#SelfReflection
90 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Dec 2024 10:03pm
26th Dec 2024 10:03pm
Fairest soul
Fairest soul writ in the scroll
To fringe the clearest mind
Airy as lace
In measured pace
To probe the polished rind
But a slip of the knee
In lieu of thee
Has bent the standard fare
I fuss and I drone
my thoughts all unsown
To rust in ill-repair
Too stringent of jest
To bear on the chest
And crimp the errant calls
A margin of sin
We wear within
To shun the one who falls
A layer of crust
Built up from the dust
To protect the delicate soul
At the end of the day
It all...
To fringe the clearest mind
Airy as lace
In measured pace
To probe the polished rind
But a slip of the knee
In lieu of thee
Has bent the standard fare
I fuss and I drone
my thoughts all unsown
To rust in ill-repair
Too stringent of jest
To bear on the chest
And crimp the errant calls
A margin of sin
We wear within
To shun the one who falls
A layer of crust
Built up from the dust
To protect the delicate soul
At the end of the day
It all...
#SelfReflection
90 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Dec 2024 2:05pm
26th Dec 2024 2:05pm
Seven minutes into tomorrow
Seven minutes into tomorrow
There’ll be sorrow
Filling spaces that are hollow
fistfuls of pain I cannot swallow
These words that once soothed me
Taints a tongue that now grooves thee
You’ve pulled sutures from wounds
To leverage futures with gloom
It won’t be the same tomorrow
Living amongst sorrow
Where I’ve stopped revelling at stars
No longer scribbling my memoirs
These words, O’ how they stain
Your murmur— it’s engrained
I bide my time until it rots
Where my actions are just thoughts
...
There’ll be sorrow
Filling spaces that are hollow
fistfuls of pain I cannot swallow
These words that once soothed me
Taints a tongue that now grooves thee
You’ve pulled sutures from wounds
To leverage futures with gloom
It won’t be the same tomorrow
Living amongst sorrow
Where I’ve stopped revelling at stars
No longer scribbling my memoirs
These words, O’ how they stain
Your murmur— it’s engrained
I bide my time until it rots
Where my actions are just thoughts
...
#SelfReflection
70 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
19th Dec 2024 2:30pm
19th Dec 2024 2:30pm
Beneath snow’s blanket
In the absence of it all, like a calm dawn in a long, dry winter
Nestled in cabins; stoking fires from the bodies of pine
and the skin of the birch
Twig fingerlings and the parchment of the crass inflict fervency to the flame
The prior prod of the cold has relented
As I dally through the meadows lain of white,
my footprints are like pressed art to the earth, revealing my every intention
Like a visual chronicle defining my aspirations
Winter is both life and death;
fleeting moments of here and beyond
The lull peaks my curiosity...
Nestled in cabins; stoking fires from the bodies of pine
and the skin of the birch
Twig fingerlings and the parchment of the crass inflict fervency to the flame
The prior prod of the cold has relented
As I dally through the meadows lain of white,
my footprints are like pressed art to the earth, revealing my every intention
Like a visual chronicle defining my aspirations
Winter is both life and death;
fleeting moments of here and beyond
The lull peaks my curiosity...
#winter
117 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th Dec 2024 1:07pm
19th Dec 2024 1:07pm
Harvest rye
Regret transcends through time
as quickly as the rye unfolds its bounty
An intellectual seed fastened to the machine
Pumping out offspring to satisfy bellies
And the mothers, forgotten;
preoccupied by the pine of a looming wither
O’ that weathered weed;
With skeletal verdure and
stalks with unflattering jackets
Her lament;
this subtle mourn—
into the vessel and out of the womb
without thought; without context
See me; feel me
I am of husk and not of grain
I am a body with gesture; with spirit
I am here and I...
as quickly as the rye unfolds its bounty
An intellectual seed fastened to the machine
Pumping out offspring to satisfy bellies
And the mothers, forgotten;
preoccupied by the pine of a looming wither
O’ that weathered weed;
With skeletal verdure and
stalks with unflattering jackets
Her lament;
this subtle mourn—
into the vessel and out of the womb
without thought; without context
See me; feel me
I am of husk and not of grain
I am a body with gesture; with spirit
I am here and I...
#dark
#SelfReflection
80 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Dec 2024 6:37pm
15th Dec 2024 6:37pm
The philosophy of clerics — with Adagio
I’ve sampled nocturnal resilience
I’ve slept on speculation; dreamt of what may have settled my shroud
that rich layer of skin
that seeps a sea of gratitude
like a fearless watering of clout
alongshore,
between frayed ends of variance
and the tendrils of substance
Beneath the guttural moans of persistence
from the vendors of eloquence
I’ve lulled my conviction to be sipped like brandy
from perspective’s glass
and poise my spoken lip in ironclad verdict
The philosophy of clerics
in broken ink of the pen's poetic...
I’ve slept on speculation; dreamt of what may have settled my shroud
that rich layer of skin
that seeps a sea of gratitude
like a fearless watering of clout
alongshore,
between frayed ends of variance
and the tendrils of substance
Beneath the guttural moans of persistence
from the vendors of eloquence
I’ve lulled my conviction to be sipped like brandy
from perspective’s glass
and poise my spoken lip in ironclad verdict
The philosophy of clerics
in broken ink of the pen's poetic...
#SelfReflection
91 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Dec 2024 12:09pm
8th Dec 2024 12:09pm
A jar, falling inward
Mother,
your words tickle more
wrists than a shackle.
Rejection spreads lost stature to the fledgling sparrow.
Despair depletes flair, in layers.
Thrust from the nest,
the sparrow’s wilt phases like destiny’s whine.
Each night upon the meadow,
he flits from branch to twig with his virgin wings; breathing in viscous mist.
He expresses his call through syrup,
his voice, wading through the lull of pity
like melancholy upends a jar—
falling inward.
The venom leaks
out of his mother;
a churn of vintage...
your words tickle more
wrists than a shackle.
Rejection spreads lost stature to the fledgling sparrow.
Despair depletes flair, in layers.
Thrust from the nest,
the sparrow’s wilt phases like destiny’s whine.
Each night upon the meadow,
he flits from branch to twig with his virgin wings; breathing in viscous mist.
He expresses his call through syrup,
his voice, wading through the lull of pity
like melancholy upends a jar—
falling inward.
The venom leaks
out of his mother;
a churn of vintage...
#LifeAsAWriter
#SelfReflection
106 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Dec 2024 11:54am
7th Dec 2024 11:54am
Empty lines
Beneath the loam, my precious will
Aside my tome, a readied quill
Up from the sand, a flaunting hand
Where gestures pose no strict command
I delve into my mother’s breast
To petrify her cruel unrest
To allocate her fulsome scold
Upon my page where letters bold
Within my script all dressed in grey
My mood eclipsed the darkest day
My eyes, unturned from dusk to dawn
Within the depth, these notions spawn
I cannot grip a hand that’s smooth
Upon my heart, you’ve left a groove
No patience spun for tongues that lash ...
Aside my tome, a readied quill
Up from the sand, a flaunting hand
Where gestures pose no strict command
I delve into my mother’s breast
To petrify her cruel unrest
To allocate her fulsome scold
Upon my page where letters bold
Within my script all dressed in grey
My mood eclipsed the darkest day
My eyes, unturned from dusk to dawn
Within the depth, these notions spawn
I cannot grip a hand that’s smooth
Upon my heart, you’ve left a groove
No patience spun for tongues that lash ...
#SelfReflection
75 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Dec 2024 3:21pm
6th Dec 2024 3:21pm
Nights of abandon
I bow before the open water
To exhale these restrictions that once drenched me
I’ve silenced the reticence; this burdensome embrace that once framed this vessel in melancholy
Where water rippled over my shoulders with its sullen lines;
defining depth with a thousand fingers, pulling
nudging the soul out of rapture
I’ve been called to task
Give me surrender; like the release of a pearl into the expanse
where what’s left within my shell is a marked recess where emptiness once lay
Readied… wasting…
I’ve primed my essence to rise...
To exhale these restrictions that once drenched me
I’ve silenced the reticence; this burdensome embrace that once framed this vessel in melancholy
Where water rippled over my shoulders with its sullen lines;
defining depth with a thousand fingers, pulling
nudging the soul out of rapture
I’ve been called to task
Give me surrender; like the release of a pearl into the expanse
where what’s left within my shell is a marked recess where emptiness once lay
Readied… wasting…
I’ve primed my essence to rise...
#SelfReflection
112 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
5th Dec 2024 11:29am
5th Dec 2024 11:29am
Misspent
Strife is consistent through life and through trap
Where the eyes are insistent the misspent are scrap
Fragmented sorrow all measured in will
A lilt of endeavour to heighten the thrill
The spaces between us; we huddle, on cue
The faces that root us, all muddied and blue
The treasure, inflicted, by rust and decline
A tormented soul with a nick in their spine
Wandering lowly, wherefore does it scald
On the tip of the temple where sadness is mulled
Where the eyes are insistent the misspent are scrap
Fragmented sorrow all measured in will
A lilt of endeavour to heighten the thrill
The spaces between us; we huddle, on cue
The faces that root us, all muddied and blue
The treasure, inflicted, by rust and decline
A tormented soul with a nick in their spine
Wandering lowly, wherefore does it scald
On the tip of the temple where sadness is mulled
#dark
70 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Everavalon
